Frost's Remorse
by Ludmeister
Summary: A day of sorrow for Jack Frost, a day of remembrance for those lost under the feet of fallen mountain snow.


**_Frost_**

In the wintertime, the ice covers the roads and sends cars slipping along, the snow falls by the foot, burying the living world beneath it, adding to larger life a sense of joy and to smaller life, a cold, slow departure. I like to be alone- I like to work alone, normally, and I know I've made friends but sometimes I fail at being one. . .

And- and considering what I just did, and I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it—he was just a child and I went and I just fucked it up. . . I'm so sorry, so sorry. . .

I'm flying- the wind's carrying me and it feels like joy and anxiety all at once because the speed's pounding air into my cheeks, but I don't mind—they're all laughing, too. The little kids I'm supposed to protect. They don't see me. _Of course not._ All they see is snow and ice in the shape of a cold day flying passed, blowing their hats off and throwing snowballs and we think it's hilarious. I can see the mountains in the distance.  
_The skiers.  
_I fly higher, the wind taking me, my staff held in hand- of course – and my mind set on fun, ignorant fun. I see them- families, children and the like of them and I fly faster to go see them because they're laughing and I can hear them and—and-  
I get to the top, and I can see a lone child, dressed too thickly in a snow suit.

_I'm so selfish. . ._

I think it's funny. Ha-ha, poor kid, huh? Probably wants to find his parents or something. I'll just help him out. . .  
I jam my staff to the soft, snowy ground below my bare feet, and suddenly the ice starts falling and I realize what I've done too late.  
The snow in falling in lumps, the air is screaming, roaring and I can hear the adults in the distance begin to yell before I cover my ears-  
"Avalanche!"

_No, no please- don't let this happen, don't let—_

I can feel roaring in my ears, but it's not just the wind anymore, and I suddenly feel like I'm falling instead of flying as I speed down the roaring, screaming mountain and-  
The children, oh not the children. . .  
And now all of the adults, the other children are crying, and the mountain has stopped crying out and the air is so still. They're all digging- they're looking for him, that kid, in the snowsuit. They're looking for all the other children I buried in the snow, all the children that are dying under the ice just like me, because of me. . .  
I start digging—something's burning and falling down my cheeks—everywhere I lay my hands, there's only more snow. I can't dig! I can't find them because all I do is make more fucking snow! They're screaming now, calling their names- I can't think. . . I start blowing wind- commanding the wind to come and blow all the snow away from here, But it doesn't work, of course it doesn't work, I'm just stupid and. . .  
I try calling for help- but who will hear me? The Easter bunny? What is anyone going to do?  
I'm kicking at the ground, I try to find them- I hear someone screaming and crying a few feet from me and I look over, and a man's holding his snow-covered daughter in his arms.  
She looks so cold.  
Her lips are bluer than mine, and she's not breathing.  
She was crushed, broken and frozen under the snow and only then do I realize that I've been running around here for an hour, trying to help and only making things worse.  
I step forward, I try to look at her, and when I do I see it. I see her eyes. They're wide open, and chilled like the rest of her, are the tears in them, surrounding the brown that colored her irises. And she's dead,  
She was afraid.  
Afraid of the cold.  
Afraid of me.  
Her father's crying, holding her, bent down in the snow and the paramedics are arriving. . .  
She only looked four years old.  
She looked so happy, so familiar, and so intelligent, so familiar again . . .

_Why couldn't I just stay dead under the frozen water like I should have?!_

I flew away.  
I am standing on the edge of this building, now. Looking down. I've already died, I've already felt the cold take me slowly away as I sunk deeper. I may not remember it, but it was probably painful enough. My head hurts from crying. I can hear police cars and ambulances still rushing to the scene, I can see little web workings of frost coming from the drops of ice that fall from my eyes as they hit the pavement. The Moon's light is beating on my back.

_Why am I here? Why did you put me here?_

I'm sitting down now, words ringing in my head, voices calling for help.  
"Jack?"  
"Jack, help. . ."

It's all my fault. They were only kids- she was only a kid.  
The streetlamps flicker around me, the moon moves behind the clouds.

_I have never felt so cold._

They never even found the kid in the snowsuit.


End file.
